Mind if we borrow your boyfriend?
Gay Cuckold Erotica: This follow-up to the best-selling Your Boyfriend is Hot contains four steamy gangbang cuckold stories that explore the world of guys who get their excitement watching their boyfriend take on a gang of admirers. In A Six-Pack for Samson, Samson has a special way of greeting his boyfriend after a hard day at the office but this time he’s caught with his pants down by his boyfriend’s work mates. In Sold by My Stepdad, a timid young man is shown what life is all about by a gang of construction workers and gains a boyfriend from the experience. Valentine’s Way ups the heat level when Valentine decides to humiliate his boyfriend for forgetting Valentine’s Day by taking on anyone who wants him until the tables are turned and things get even raunchier. That perennial question, What Time Does Your Boyfriend Get Home? is answered in the novella of the same name when the whole neighborhood gets hard for a young fashion model.
The sound of loud voices cursing and the thud of something banging against the walls woke me. For a moment I was disoriented until I realized I’d fallen asleep on the couch in my home office. I struggled to recall what happened when I got in last night. I remember coming upstairs to dump my laptop bag and sitting down to take off my shoes, then… That was it. Lights out. I hadn’t even contacted Paris, my gorgeous young boyfriend to let him know I would be back a day early I was in such a state when I left my overseas conference for the airport. He hadn’t been home when I arrived and I wanted to surprise him and make up for my neglect of late.
Jumping up to seek him out now, as well as the new day, was a mistake. My head hurt like buggery – well buggery when you don’t do it right – and I tripped over a rug that was puddled at my feet. I must have had enough sense to cover myself before I fell asleep. I was still bushed from too many long corporate meetings followed by too many celebratory drinks and too much back slapping, then more drinks on the plane coming back because I hate flying.
There had been a reason for the rush home but I couldn’t for the life of me…
“Watch the mirror, guys,” I heard Paris shout in horror. He can be a bit of a drama queen. Still, the thump of furniture hitting a wall or a door brought it all back to me. Of course, Paris was moving in today. After our ‘whirlwind’ romance of three years, he’d finally consented to give up his tawdry inner-city bedsit and move into my more spacious home – an upmarket mansion complete with manicured grounds and an outdoor pool, more in keeping with his career as an up-and-coming print and catwalk model. If that makes me sound like a prat, so be it. I work bloody hard for the bells and whistles in my life.
Perhaps not enough to keep Paris happy though. “You work too hard,” he’d moaned before I left for my latest overseas trip. “I never get to see you.” The anthem of neglected spouses the world over. Not that Paris and I were spouses. Yet. He’d baulked at marrying me because of the disparity in our incomes. He didn’t want to be seen as my boy toy, and I certainly didn’t want to be seen as his sugar daddy. Besides, there is only nine years difference in our ages. He’s twenty-two. A very mature twenty-two. I’m a career focused thirty-one.
That all changed when I met him. It was the most boring party I’d ever been to.
I’d been impressed by Paris’s opening gambit. I was fiddling with my fifth Scotch on the rocks wondering what I had to do to escape the tedium when a young man whose assets weren’t in the rather unprepossessing clothes he wore but in his smile, his model-handsome face, and in the body which his obviously second-hand suit did little to hide.
He leaned in to whisper, “What’s say you and I escape this dirge and go fuck in one of the rooms?”
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